{{ OOC }} memegram
In progress. I've only done five.
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!
4. Do ten of these, then post them~.
I've decided that bloodyuseless counts as a fandom.
1. Glass Slipper - The Dresden Dolls
The policeman's ball was something he particularly loathed. Had loathed, even before. Hadn't been in years, actually. At the moment he didn't remember how or why he was there, just that he was loathing it. Loathing it a lot. Another two swallows of wine and he'd be over in the red zone of embarrassing himself the next time he opened his mouth. So he left, even though he was fairly sure with half his present mind that the commissioner had been speaking directly to him as he suddenly turned and left the building.
London at night was fucking awful. It was dead quiet here, everything cleaned out and shining. But he could see the filth under it. The filth put there by the rich, never the poor. He lit a cigarette and kept walking.
2. The Rain - Missy Elliot
Inhale. Burning, floating, colors moving. Nothing today, good. Exhale. Cool air, beautiful open plains. Someone next to him was singing. Off-key. He didn't care. Frederick Abberline was high as India. Was India high? Opposed to low? Why did that thought occur to him? Were there mountains in India? What about tall structures? Cleopatra's Needle was tall. Taller than a palace? Who fucking cared.
The house reeked of incense, more so than usual, trying to cover up the damp, dank, mold of a day of heavy rain. He didn't know why they bothered. They were in England, and it was a futile effort. Sometimes he was sure it rained every day, even in the dry season.
3. Obsequey [The Death of Art] - Marilyn Manson (this song is one minute long :|)
The dull colors of the world were muted even further in the morgue. Even Godley was sick this time; he was recoiling before the sheet was even fully off. Abberline noted to himself he had blood on his own hand from moving it.
They really needed a new coroner.
4. undecided - Dir en grey
"You should just retire."
"I can't retire. I'm contracted."
"You could transfer back to Dorset. Go home."
"What's at home?"
"... Not this."
He stared at the burning cigarette in his hand. He hadn't taken a drag in several long minutes, and it was starting to make an ashy mess. Could he just go? Just run, just leave London behind. London, that had given him everything and then taken it away.
"I'll put my papers in... for the transfer."
A week later, Inspector Abberline's request for transfer out of the 'Met and back to his original station was denied. Though he was granted a week's leave - on account of the baby dying, and all.
4. Evidence - Marilyn Manson
She was beneath him now, pushed against some dirty stone wall. Was this how she lived, letting men do this to her? No, not this. She'd never kiss them. No unfortunate would kiss a trick. But she kissed him, her fingers digging into his arms to keep him there. It was as desperate as it was true. He'd never touched a woman since her, not since she'd died. And now he was kissing a whore. He had the sudden tightness in his chest and rush in his head and he knew he was having a premonition and it spoke to him with such cold terror that he nearly froze -- but she was still in his arms, pressed against his chest. It was forgotten for that moment, because he needed this, needed her. She needed to be who she was and they needed to be where they were, or he wouldn't have cared, couldn't have.
After they'd parted and he was walking down another dark alley in the frigid, murky night air, a shiver ran up his spine at the though that had invaded him. This is all you have with her. The moment your lips leave hers, it's over.
5. Doubt - hide
The sound of their shoes echoed in the long hallway - hurried, determined. Constables fled from before them, for the look on Chief Inspector Frederick Abberline's face was one of fearsome death. He was tugging on his dark blue uniform jacket, glowering. Every month he met with the other Chiefs, and every month his contempt for them grew. This month would be no different.
"You should really lighten up, you'll give yourself a damn heart attack," Godley fussed - he fussed, he really did - from just behind him, keeping up with him but not liking it. The look Abberline shot him over his shoulder would have sent another man whimpering away. Godley just rolled his eyes. "At least try not to dare them to suspend you."
These are awful.
I did skip a few here and there, but I didn't go song hunting (I have a lot of jrock on my iPod, and I'm not going to dig up translations for things I don't have the general idea of). Some of them make no sense because I really did just use the allotted time, aha.